


A Choice Made

by isthisclever



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Lallybroch, broch tuoroch, claire stays behind, craig na dun, culloden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisclever/pseuds/isthisclever
Summary: On the morning of the Battle of Culloden, Claire runs to the stones as Jamie fights Redcoat soldiers. Heartbroken, she prepares herself to leave Jamie forever.But what if she can't?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 49
Kudos: 127





	1. To the Hilltop

Heart and feet pounding, Claire's mind focused on only one word.

 _Run_.

The grassy hill made the journey difficult, as did the frantic tears escaping her eyes.

 _No time, Beauchamp_ , she told herself. Her calves burned with the effort of propelling herself at full speed uphill. _Cry later. Run now._

Her foot landed in a hidden divot in the grass, and Claire pitched forward with a gasp of surprise. She landed hard on her knees and looked behind her as she scrambled up. Surprised, she saw her pursuer had abandoned the chase. No Redcoat in sight.

She didn't pause to think what this might mean -- had he simply chosen to circumvent her from a different side? Or had he joined his companions in the assault on Jamie at the abandoned cottage where they'd exchanged heartbroken farewell? She stood, and she ran. Ran for Jamie, who couldn't fight off the soldiers while shielding her. Ran for the babe within her, the only reason strong enough to send her away.

Her pulse thrummed in her ears, adrenaline making her feel simultaneously invigorated and weak, shaky. She heard her own breath, ragged with exertion. As she crested the hill and breached the perimeter of the stone circle, she glanced once more down the hill. No sounds reached her here.

Had he already fallen for the final time?

 _No time, Beauchamp,_ she repeated, turning her back on Jamie with great effort.

Claire eyed the center stone with trepidation. She knew the journey would be painful, disorienting.

Permanent.

She closed her eyes; she may never gather the courage to touch the thing if she had to look at it. Claire took a deep breath as though she were about to dive into icy water. Breath held and arms outstretched, she took two steps forward until her hands met the rough coolness of granite.

Nothing.

Eyebrows furrowed, she pressed her palms harder into the stone. Still, the ground beneath her feet remained solid.

Claire opened her eyes and took a backwards step, looking with worry at the stone. Ten seconds ago, she'd feared the torrent of the journey ahead of her; now, she feared its lack.

Shaking her head, she circled the stone and came at it from the other side. Eyes open, she walked forward with purpose and smacked her palms against the slab hard enough to feel the sting. Standing, leaning her weight against her hands as though she wished to push the stone down the hill, she waited.

Only then did she realize how quiet the hilltop was. Echoes of canon fire reached her from Culloden. Wind whispered through the trees further away at the hill's base. Her own breathing remained uneven with uncertainty.

But that telltale buzzing, that bone-shattering hum that had hypnotized her and pulled her toward the stone two and a half years ago, was absent.

"No," she breathed. Claire pulled her hands from the stone and looked up at it, willing herself to sense that preternatural siren's song.

Only birdsong answered her.

Whatever force had summoned her to the past -- upending her universe and righting it in one stroke -- was gone.


	2. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Claire realizes Jamie's plan won't work, she must make a new one, even as her mourning begins.

After several more futile attempts to muscle her way into the void that would send her two centuries ahead in time (even walking halfway down the hill and returning, as though she could trick the stones into swallowing her), Claire finally gave up.

Her breathing had finally slowed. Whatever door had been open to her on her first journey had slammed shut. But why? The stones had sung when Jamie had brought her the last time after the witch trials. She'd felt the pull then, just as before. But she'd chosen.

Maybe that was the problem. She'd chosen to stay. Had that choice sealed her fate, blocked the passageway to her?

Deep in her thoughts, she descended the hill back toward the cottage. The fear that had enveloped her at the stones seemed to dissipate as she closed the distance between her and Jamie. Some small relief settled upon her. Whatever happened in the next hour, she felt better being in his time. Closer to him, even if...

She shoved thoughts of the raging battle and her warrior husband aside. As she came upon the cottage, she saw three Redcoat soldiers lying dead in the grass. A fresh wave of relief as she saw Jamie's body was absent among them.

"Jamie!" she called out. Checking around the side of the cottage, she saw that Donas was gone. How long had she been at the hill? He could be nearly back to Culloden by now. Another canon blast, muffled with distance, sent shockwaves through her chest as though it had shot her through.

The short-lived peace disappeared. Jamie was fighting a battle sure to end in his death. And here she was, pregnant, miles from sanctuary with no supplies and utterly alone.

Too much. It was too much. Claire sank to her knees outside the cottage and, finally, allowed tears to overtake her.

#

As the sobs slowed, Claire forced herself to think rationally. Stones or not, Jamie or not, she had to survive for the sake of their child. If only one piece of him would remain in this world, she'd protect it.

Standing up, focusing on the mission ahead to curb the grief and fear just under the surface, she turned her feet towards Lallybroch.

She avoided the roadway, trekking through the wild forests nearly without pause for four days. Water was never difficult to find, though she felt herself growing weaker with each day without proper nourishment and only the barest rest. Scavenged berries and plant life only went so far.

But finally, at long last, she crested the hill that brought Lallybroch into view. She'd expected to feel some peace at the vision. Only a cold numbness. It was the first time she'd approach the homestead without him. She looked to her left, as though expecting to see him there. Grief threatened to cripple her to see empty air beside her. Shoving it aside, Claire pushed herself forward. It would be dark soon.

Jenny ran out to meet her as she crossed under the archway, relief on her face as she folded Claire into her arms.

"Thank the Lord," she whispered. "Fergus arrived days ago, and some o' the men have been trickling back as well. We'd worrit over the two of you night and day since." Jenny pulled away and smiled with a sigh as she took Claire in and looked over her shoulder toward the road. Claire saw the color leave her sister-in-law's face as their eyes met. Her vision narrowed, Jenny's blanched face losing form, as she felt herself fall.

#

Claire awoke on the sofa in the parlor, Ian and Jenny and Fergus looking down on her with worry. In the background, she could hear Mrs. Crook scolding one of the children.

"How is it, lass?" Ian asked. His kind eyes watched her with concern. After a pause, he added, "Ye look like you could use somethin' to warm your belly." He nodded to Fergus, who disappeared from her vision.

Nodding slowly, Claire eased herself up. She swung her legs over the edge of the sofa, leaning her elbows on her knees and resting her face in her hands. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, willing the coldness to leave her.

"Jamie?" Jenny's voice came out as a croak, so unlike her normal commanding strength. Claire looked up at her. Her glass face must have said all that needed saying, as Jenny sank into the chair beside her, soundless tears streaking down her face.

"What happened?" she finally asked.

Claire shook her head. "We knew," she said, her own voice cracking from emotion and disuse. "We knew that Culloden was lost. The men were too exhausted, too hungry and weak." She omitted her own foreknowledge; it was too much to try to explain. "He tried to convince the prince that to fight was to die, but he'd hear none of it." Fury boiled up inside Claire, overtaking the chilled numbness for the briefest of moments before she fought it back down. "He--he sent Fergus with the deed of sasine and had Murtagh send the men home so that Lallybroch wouldn't be lost once they'd..." She swallowed hard. Ian and Jenny deserved to hear it all, and she had to control herself to give it to them. As much as she could without delving into the full truth, which she was too exhausted to give.

"After that, Jamie rode me far enough away from the battle. It was too dangerous even to stay as healer. He told me to ride as far away as possible. I begged to stay with him." Claire rested her face in her hands again, willing the hysteria in her chest to subside. "But he wouldn't have it. He knew..." Shaky breath in and out. "I'm with child. I hardly knew it myself, but he bloody knew it. He told me I had to leave him. Oh, God, how could I leave him?"

Jenny's arms wrapped tight around her as the tears finally overtook her once again. Ian, too, grasped her shoulder. They three rested together, sobbing and shaking.

"Ye did right, Claire," Jenny said at last, pulling away. "He'd no want to risk ye coming to harm, ye or the bairn. It'd kill him."

Claire sat up, wiping her eyes. She knew that. Jamie had said as much on their way to Craig na Dun. And in her bones, she knew that the one thing she could give him to save him was this child, even if he couldn't be the father for it he'd so wanted to be.

"Where's yer horse?" Ian asked.

"Oh," Claire responded, taken aback. "It, um, had a fright a few hours from Culloden. Reared back and threw me. I'm all right," she hastened to add at their concerned looks. "But it disappeared and I couldn't find it again."

Ian nodded with understanding. She could see the pain etched in his face as he grappled with his best friend, the brother of choice if not by blood, never coming home.

"Are ye sure he couldna have survived?" he asked. "If ye did not stay for the battle, perhaps some would manage to..." He trailed off as Claire shook her head.

Deep, trembling breath. "This wasn't just a battle. The battle, the final one." She looked down at her hands in her lap, shaking her head again. "The English will make sure everyone knows as much. They won't leave survivors."

"Even if he coulda made away," Jenny breathed, "he wouldna, no with others there who needed him."

Again, Ian nodded somberly before looking into Claire's face. "I'm glad ye made it home safe," he whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder with an affectionate squeeze. "We'll care for ye, and for the bairn. Ye'll have no worries there, lass." Jenny nodded her agreement as she grabbed Claire's hand between both of her own.

Claire nodded but said naught. She took a heartbeat to be grateful that she'd be around family, his and hers, rather than a world away among strangers who'd never known him. Here, her child would be surrounded by those who'd heard his laugh, touched his perfect red curls, butted heads and exchanged fighting words but also felt the warmth of his embrace and understood the depth of his gentle compassion.

By the next heartbeat, though, desolation returned. Ian saw the shade pull over her face and cleared his throat.

"Now," Ian said, standing up, a tone of forced control. "Ye'll need food and rest. Where is Fergus with that --"

"Here, Milady," came the response. Fergus stood in the doorway, a bowl of soup in his hands, eyes bright, tears shiny and wet on his cheeks.


	3. The Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Fergus, and the Murrays come to grips with Jamie's loss just as a visitor arrives with shocking news.

Claire spent much of the next two days in bed. Between the difficult journey to Lallybroch and the growing ache of grief in her chest, standing from the bed required too much strength. Physical pains mingled with the emotional ones. Weakened legs would buckle and she'd collapse, unable to move.

"Please, Milady, you must eat," Fergus implored her one evening as she laid in bed, staring at the flames in the hearth. " _Le bebe_ needs strength, as do you." Claire turned her attention to the boy, and she nearly burst into tears again. His eyes, puffy and red as hers surely were, looked on her resolutely. With Jamie gone, it fell to Fergus to protect her, care for her and the baby. At least, it did so in his mind. And he meant to do it.

She smiled weakly and nodded. "You're right," she said, sitting up and putting her feet to the floor. If Fergus could be strong for her, then she could be strong from him. Perhaps between them, they would survive the pain that ate at them both. She sighed. "Let me dress."

"You are weak. You'll need help down the stairs, Milady," he persisted.

Claire nodded. "Wait just outside. I'll only be a moment."

A moment turned into about fifteen as Claire struggled to don a basic dress to join the household. Each movement felt as though she were swimming in molasses, each step taking everything she had within her. Raising her hands to tie her laces or pin her hair felt as momentous as lifting a felled tree trunk. She thought of Fergus, of the warm life inside of her, and pressed on. Finally, she managed it.

She allowed Fergus to guide her down the stairs, his arm supporting hers, and to the kitchen. Ian and Jenny smiled as she entered, relief at seeing her tinged with fresh sadness.

They ate slowly with few words. The light outside was fading and the shadows beginning to shift in the house when Young Jamie came running into the kitchen.

"Mam! Cart's outside!" he exclaimed, flushed and out of breath.

Jenny was the first out the door, Claire and Ian not far behind. Sure enough, a cart filled with hay sat in the dooryard, the man driving it still at the reins. He showed no signs of disembarking. "Lallybroch, aye?" he asked leisurely.

"Aye," Ian said, making his way down the steps to join the women. Fergus brought up the rear. "What business have ye come with?"

"Man for ye," he said, gesturing to the cart.

 _Man for ye_. Claire's heart thumped hard on her ribs, but the beats seemed slow. Blood rushed in her ears. No, couldn't be...

Jenny had already rushed and climbed to look over the edge of the cart. "Jamie!" she gasped, and Claire's pulse went from slow to racing. She joined Ian and Jenny at the cart, looking into the mound of hay, and for the first time in days, the tears in her eyes were of joy.

His face was gray, gaunt. Dark circles under his eyes and bruises on his skin. The clothes he wore were barely rags now, torn and nearly completely covered in dirt, grass, or blood stains. His lips -- God, those perfect lips -- were a dark purple. But they trembled slightly as his breath passed through, pained and forced but breath nonetheless.

"Jamie," Claire whispered, moisture rolling down her cheeks. She climbed over the side of the cart into the hay, putting her hands to his cheeks. He was real. Cold, but real. "Oh, Jamie."

"Sassenach," he muttered. His glassy eyes closed, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a look of surprising peace. "Faster'n I thought..." he muttered. His breath continued to rattle as he stilled.

The shock had yet to disappear, but as he seemed to slip from consciousness, Claire shifted into nurse mode. Whatever miracle had brought him home, she'd be damned if she let him slip away. Feeling for his pulse, she assessed him visually. His left leg. The kilt there was soaked with blood.

"Get him inside," she said to the group. Together, they hauled his massive form from the cart and got him to the kitchen table. Mrs. Crook, hearing them entering the hall, had blessedly cleared it for them. As they laid him down, Claire shoved the tartan out of the way to see the full damage. And damaged it was. An eight-inch slice in his leg bled profusely and had already taken on a troubling reddish quality at the edges. If he'd lasted this long, though, the artery must not have been severed; he'd have bled out in minutes had it been.

They cleaned the wound as best they could, and Claire stitched it before scanning the rest of his battered body. A few more wounds here and there but only the one to be truly concerned with. His family then settled around him in silence.

After tending him, none could bring themselves to leave the room, least of all Claire. After having believed him lost forever, to let him out of her sight would be too much temptation for fate to take him away again. So the four of them spent a restless night at his side. Mrs. Crook, godsend she was, kept the hearth burning and candles lit and wordlessly tended to wee Jamie and Maggie.

And so they waited.

Claire dozed on and off, her hand gripping Jamie's tightly. Each time she stirred awake, she checked his pulse and breathing. Pulse faint, breathing labored.

But still there.

Jamie slept for a full day, sometimes moaning as Claire checked the leg wound and tended to a few smaller ones on the rest of his body. Jenny and Ian stayed as near as they could as their duties to their children and the household dragged them away at various intervals. Dark had set in the next day before he finally stirred and wrested his eyes open.

"Jamie!" Jenny exclaimed, leaning over him. Ian stood at his other shoulder, and Claire stood beside Jenny, her hand still grasped in his as Fergus positioned himself at the head, bouncing excitedly on his toes. "Oh, thank Christ, Jamie," Jenny whispered. "We kent ye had to be gone, but God has brought ye home. Brought all ye home."

His eyes were still glazed, somewhat unfocused, but he seemed more lucid than he had in the cart. "Aye," he answered in a strained whisper. Jamie's eyes shifted from Jenny to Ian, wordless.

Claire couldn't find her voice. So elated she was to feel his flesh, to see his chest rise and fall with life. A lump rose in her throat that she couldn't dislodge. She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his fist and enclosing it with both her own hands and clutching it to her chest.

His eyes shifted to her then, and as they focused on her, they widened. "Am I dead after all, then?" he breathed.

"Nay, brother," Jenny said, smile in her voice. "Yer alive. All of ye, home and safe." She kissed her brother's forehead and pulled Claire closer to him so he could see. Claire's voice still failed her, but she smiled down as Jenny continued, "Claire's safe, Jamie. Ye got her away in time. Her and the bairn and Fergus, too."

Jamie's still hazy eyes never left Claire's face, wonder and confusion battling for dominance as he looked to her. She stroked his cheek with one hand and held his hand to her chest with the other as her own tears blurred her vision and Jamie's face wavered before her. "Welcome home, soldier."


	4. Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jamie recovers from his injury, he and Claire discuss why the stones wouldn't take her back.

Afters succumbing once more to sleep, Jamie wouldn't wake again for days. Ian, with the help of a few tenants, managed to get Jamie moved to the bedroom upstairs the morning after he'd woken so briefly on the kitchen table.

Hours later, the fever set in.

Heat radiated from his skin, and the moments he surfaced toward consciousness were filled with the ramblings of delirium. Each time he saw Claire's face, he asked again if he'd died (though not always in English), never seeming to recall that he'd seen her already.

They had to act. Act now.

Even with Fergus, Claire, both Murrays, and two tenants to assist, treating the wound was horrendous. Jamie, though terrifyingly weak with blood loss and hunger, still managed to howl as Jenny poured the boiling water into the wound to clean it. It took all of the rest of them to hold him to the bed, and only with great effort. She and Claire switched spots as the latter prepared to stitch the sliced skin. Unconscious, he continued to flinch and writhe as the needle worked its way up his sensitive thigh, and each one sent a jolt of sorrow through her.

_I can bear my own pain, Sassenach, but I couldna bear yours. It would take more strength than I have._

_No truer words,_ Claire thought as she focused on the task at hand. She tuned out his cries of agony and focused instead on the pain she'd feel if she failed him, if she let him slip away after he'd made his way back home to her. Her vision narrowed so all she could see was the gaping wound before her, the needle all she could feel.

Another day passed, and now the worry of fever and infection was joined with dehydration and starvation. He had been thin when he'd arrived, and he'd only continued to waste away in the days since. And he hadn't been able to drink water in the two days since they'd cleaned the wound.

Claire sat vigil by his bedside, only leaving to use the chamberpot. Fergus sat with her most of the time when he wasn't bringing her food and drink that sat on the bedside table to get cold.

"Milord would tell you to eat," he scolded her. "Please, Milady," he added with a desperate tone.

With reluctance, she took two bites of the parritch to appease him. He huffed in resignation but accepted her tacit truce, and they went back to their silent watch.

Claire held his hand, her eyes glued to his face, praying. After all the events of the last week -- the stones being closed to her, finding her way to Lallybroch, Jamie surviving the slaughter of Culloden and returning to her against all odds -- she had to believe that something bigger than herself protected them. The universe itself must realize that the pain of their separation would have ripped it apart at the seams and therefore conspired to keep them together. If she lost him here, where she could see the life leave his body and feel the warmth ease from his skin, she knew she'd die herself.

Dawn was breaking when Jamie heaved a sigh and stirred. Claire, who'd fallen asleep in the chair beside him, jolted awake and stood over him. Fergus took to the other side of the bed. Claire's fingers brushed damp curls from Jamie's forehead, her heart rate increasing in anticipation.

"Jamie?"

The eyelids opened as if with great effort, but for the first time since he'd pulled up in the cart so many days before, the shine of fever had abated. His eyes, tired and gaunt though they were, stared at her with perfect clarity.

"Claire," he whispered, and this time she knew he really saw her, understood her presence to be truth. His other hand raised from the bed, floating to touch her cheek. She bent and, gently, put her lips to his. He lowered his hand to his side. As she pulled away, she saw the tears sliding down the side of his face as his throat worked, swallowing sobs. "How?" he asked.

Claire swallowed, too, and looked to Fergus. "Milord needs tea, Fergus," she said. "Don't wake the others yet. They'll be up soon enough."

The boy cast a yearning look to Jamie, obviously not wanting to leave his side, but obeyed without a word. With Fergus gone and the door closed, Claire perched on the edge of the bed beside him and stroked Jamie's cheek.

"I don't know what happened," she whispered. "But...the humming was gone. I must have spent an hour touching that stone, but nothing happened."

"But I saw ye were gone," he said. Jamie shook his head slightly. Without seeming to realize it, he reached up to grasp her hand on his cheek. "When I finished wi' the Redcoats, I looked up the hill to make sure. You werena there."

Claire shook her head. "I must have been round the other side," she said. "Or on the other side of the hill. I went down and back up a few times, trying to get it to work."

"I'm sorry, Claire," he choked as sobs threatened to burst forth. "I should've looked better. Christ, ye were there all on yer own?"

"Shh," she soothed him, caressing his face, running her fingers through that mop of hair she loved so dearly. "You have never done anything that wasn't protecting me. And you did nothing wrong. Do you hear me, James Fraser?"

She could see the lump in his own throat as his lips, pressed together, trembled. "But if anyone'd found ye there, alone --"

"But no one did," Claire said firmly. "And I made it to Lallybroch safely. You fought for me, would have died for me to find a safe place. And I will hear no apologies or words to the contrary."

He didn't answer for a moment, only gazed into her eyes as his fingers slowly stroked her palm, still placed on his cheek. The look in his eyes pierced her like lightning. For the first time in so many days, she felt warm.

"Why do you suppose it didna work, then?" he finally asked, voice low.

She sighed. "I'm not sure. Maybe it's only at certain times. I came through at Samhain," she added. "My other thought was when we went before, when I chose to stay with you, maybe the choosing closed it to me."

Joy and fear battled behind his eyes as he watched her, visible as shadows on stone. He brought her fingers to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles. "I dinna ken why, Sassenach, and I'm terrified o' what's to come." He shuddered, as did she, at the trials they knew they had yet to face: raids, famine, the clearances that would effectively destroy the Highland culture and many of the people who lived by it. "I dinna regret taking ye there. Part of me would prefer ye and the bairn to be somewhere calm and safe. But, my God, Claire--" He smiled at her, and fresh tears escaped "--I canna put into words how glad I am to be near ye."

She returned his smile. "As am I, Jamie," she whispered. "The days I spent here, thinking you were gone..." A cold tingle ran up her spine at the memory of her arrival to Lallybroch until she looked back into his face and let his heat thaw her again. "It hurt to exist." She felt her lip quivering.

"Aye," he replied. "Riding away, believing ye gone yerself, made fighting somewhat easier. I was mad with fury. At Charles Stuart, the English, at God for givin' ye to me then tearing ye away." He paused, mastering his voice again. "Made it easier, though, to charge the field, knowing I'd be joining ye soon. Thought I had," he added. "I remember seeing yer lovely face, purple sky behind ye and light coming off yer bonny hair, and thinking that two hundred years had gone by so much quicker than I'd thought it would."

Fergus came through the door then, mug of tea in hand. He set it on the table, beaming. "Milord, I took care of Milady until you returned," he said, standing beside her. "Her and the bairn."

Jamie smiled weakly. Claire could see that, improved though he was, his strength still needed time to return. "I thank ye, lad," he said, taking his free hand to place on Fergus's arm. "I didna doubt ye would watch out for them both."

"You should drink," Claire said, standing and grabbing the mug from the table, "then rest some more. Fergus, help Milord raise his head enough to drink."

With careful motions, Jamie managed to sip from the mug until he'd drained it. Fergus and Claire settled him back against the pillows. His eyelids drooped, though she could see he fought to keep them open.

"I dinna wish to look away from your face, Sassenach," he croaked, "in case I should wake and find I've only imagined ye."

"Sleep," she commanded softly. Her hands went again to his face, stroking his temples and brushing through his hair. Oh, how glad she was to feel those curls in her fingers. "I fully intend to do more than look at you eventually, James Fraser, and for that to happen, you need rest."

He finally allowed his eyes to close, but a delighted grin lit his features. "Aye, Sassenach," he muttered, easing his way to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of what I currently have written, but I do hope to add more to this story over time. Especially since, in this AU as in the books, Claire is just as much in danger from being discovered by Redcoats as Jamie. I have some vague ideas of what to do, but it'll just be a matter of ironing them out and writing them down. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this short fic and for all your lovely support of my first few stories! Writing these has been deeply therapeutic for me, and I've never been so excited to share my writing before. So thank you all!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few chapters of this written. Right now, this is a fairly short fic but I may see where it leads. This is actually the first chapter of fan fiction I'd written since I was a teenager and wanted to share it. :) Hope you've enjoyed!


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